|5th of March, 2007 | 8:51 p.m.
Bouncing off the top of this cloud, and I am nobody's little weasel. Do I want to be anyone's little weasel? Possibly. I don't know what weasels have to do with anything. Nothing. Eh?
My arms hurt from where I was... I don't know, actually. My arms hurt for no apparent reason. I feel like I've been lifting weights. It is possible. We have some lying around.
Then came the revelation that I miss him when he's not there. I don't know why it surprised me. I am oblivious to things sometimes. I am all too aware of other things. Where is the middle ground? Logically, it is in the middle, BUT I CAN'T SEE IT. I am a horse, with eyes on either side of my head, and poor binocular vision. Neigh. If I am Horsey, then where is Sock-O? Probably stood in front of me WHERE I CAN'T SEE HIM.*
*Please note, this is not strictly true, as horses do have quite good binocular vision. I call it artistic license. Anyone else who uses that term stole from me. True story.